


Chat Log: TA 1/18/2014

by keelywolfe



Series: Chat Logs: The Good Bits [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Thorin, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author's note: I write so many snippets in chat that never make their way into actual stories, for whatever reason. They may not have complete beginnings or endings, but they are the Good Bits and worth sharing! Enjoy!</p><p>Snippet Two: Ah, Bilbo, you knew it was the right choice to stay in Erebor because you get nights like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chat Log: TA 1/18/2014

_That's a night Bilbo gets to top_  
 _All that hair spread out over the pillows and bed linens_  
 _The room all warm and cozy, and they've probably had a bit of wine, too_  
 _Enough that Thorin is willing to lie there and let Bilbo rub his back_  
 _Thorin won't ask for gentleness, but Bilbo can read him._  
 _Sometimes, he'd crave it_  
 _Bilbo kneading away weeks of tension. Rock-hard muscles finally melting beneath his persistence._  
 _Until Thorin was half-asleep, drifting as Bilbo moved lower, rubbing his backside and he'd spread his legs without a word. He won't ask for it, but he can want._  
 _Bilbo would ignore it at first, rubbing his thighs, easing away trembling tension that returned when he spread his legs._  
 _Not used to allowing vulnerability, but it's something he can offer Bilbo. Gold and gems are meaningless to Bilbo, but this is something he can appreciate._

~~*~~

Bilbo spilled a small puddle of oil into the small of Thorin's back, smoothing its slipperiness downward. The oil smelled bland, almonds perhaps, nothing as lovely as the one Thorin used in his hair but Bilbo hardly needed an incentive.

He was already shaking himself, biting his lip as he drew both thumbs down that dark cleft, inhaling slowly when Thorin spread his legs wider, inviting a touch.

Bilbo had smaller fingers than a Dwarf, and yet, Thorin still grunted when Bilbo pushed one into him. Barely in, the tip of his finger and he could feel Thorin clench around him, struggling to relax. He petted Thorin's thigh with his free hand, wordlessly soothing.  
Better to be wordless because nothing he could say was going to help.

If anything, it would make things worse, Thorin wouldn't take any suggestion or soothing properly.

Patience, at least, Bilbo could manage. Waiting for Thorin to relax enough for him to press deeper, feeling the ungodly heat inside him. Was this what it was like, he wondered, when Thorin took him, did he feel as hot inside, as tight?

Did sweat break out on his shoulders and back, gleaming in a muted gold in the firelight? Bilbo had no idea and it was difficult to care because Thorin certainly did, had, he was all but quivering beneath Bilbo as he carefully pressed his finger in and then withdrew, feeling that tightness ease, Thorin's legs relaxing further apart.

Bilbo took advantage of it, shuffling forward a bit so that Thorin couldn't close them again and then gently slipped another finger in alongside the first. Instantly, Thorin tensed, half rising on his elbows and the tautness in his shoulders was as distressing as it was lovely. Relax, Bilbo pleaded to him mentally, relax, relax, he wasn't about to take things any further if Thorin would not be able to accept it.

Or rather, he would, in grim silence as he endured and that was not at all how Bilbo wanted this night to go.

He eased his fingers deeper, the oil guiding a slippery path, twisting slowly and ah, there, the startled, choked cry that Thorin let out, his hair spilling forward as he ducked his head, muffling his sounds into the pillow. His thighs quivered, muscles jumping as if Thorin was contemplating an escape but it was entirely too late for that. Bilbo curled his fingers, ever so slightly, and the sound that tore free from Thorin's throat was as shocked as it was lovely.

Dwarves weren't so very different then, Bilbo decided, a touch smugly, and he worked his fingers in slow, careful pushes, listening for each catch of breath, every rumbling, low cry that Thorin couldn't hide from him.

For all that Bilbo had patience, it was hardly endless, and watching Thorin twist beneath him was testing it mercilessly. Worse, so very much worse, was the faint, almost timid rise of his hips, moving into the press of Bilbo's fingers. That was entirely too much to ask of any Hobbit and Bilbo had to bite his lip at the groan of protest that came when he drew his fingers free. Thorin was clutching the pillow now, strangling it in his grip, and Bilbo counted silently in his head as he stripped down his trousers, kneeling bare between Thorin's legs.

One, two, and he palmed oil over his cock, smoothing more over Thorin as well until they were both slippery. Three, four, and he shuffled forward on his knees, laying a steadying hand at Thorin's hip. Five, six, and he was lining up, feeling the tension rising again as he nudged against Thorin, but that would ease, he was sure, it would, and Thorin would not forgive him if he stopped again. Seven, eight, and he had to drop his forehead against Thorin's back, smelling sweat and oil and sex, drenched into the air around them and he could have finished just like that, embarrassed himself against the smooth curve of Thorin's arse. Nine and ten, and Bilbo arched his hips, pressing against that slick little entrance and gasping himself at the ease of it.

Nothing but a deep, easy slide, and Thorin's low groan, deep enough that Bilbo could feel the rumble of it against his own chest where he lay sprawled over Thorin. He could hardly claim perfect technique, not while he lay gasping and desperate, tasting the sweat beading on his upper lip, but Thorin offered no complaint. Indeed, he hitched his hips against Bilbo's in a wordless demand, one that Bilbo well understood. More and deeper and now, all couched into one ragged arch.

It was not going to last very long, Bilbo was dimly aware of that, even as he found enough leverage to match Thorin's demands. It was not going to last and Thorin was....all the little gods, he was perfect, pushing up on his elbows and meeting every thrust Bilbo managed. His hair was clinging damply to his shoulders, drawn up in sweaty ringlets, muscles flexing beneath fire-glided skin and Bilbo closed his eyes in desperation. Even that offered no relief, Thorin smelled rich and dark beneath him, spices and smoke, and he was flame-hot within, the tight clench of his body as demanding as the rest of him.

It was not going to last, _he_ was not going to last but Bilbo could offer some gratitude heavenward, because beneath him, Thorin was breathing heavily, straining for air, and Bilbo hardly had a chance to fumble a hand under him, wrapping it around the straining, hard heat of his cock before he could feel Thorin coming, his moan shaky and rough as he spilled hot over Bilbo's hand. And honestly, no one could be expected to take more than that, no one could last through watching Thorin quiver and jerk, feeling the hot, heavy weight of his seed in their palm. Bilbo buried his face into the sweaty, sleek curve of Thorin's back, tasting sweat as he muffled his own cry and came, pulling out at the last moment to spend in wet streaks over Thorin's arse and back. Hardly polite and he'll certainly apologize for it later but for now Bilbo only watched raptly through narrowed eyes as the pale lines fell glossily across bare skin.

Thorin didn't utter a sound of protest, only collapsed down onto the bed, sprawled in a sweaty, shaking heap. Even when Bilbo reached out and smoothed his thumb through one of the wet streaks, rubbing it gently into his skin, Thorin only hummed out a contented sigh, hips rising briefly into Bilbo's touch.

That slight movement was enough to snap Bilbo from his haze and he felt a hot blush rising, snatching his hand away. "I'm sorry, I'll just--a cloth..." he stammered out, already fumbling his way to his knees.

"Don't go," Thorin mumbled, one hand reaching back for Bilbo and after a moment, Bilbo took it, allowing Thorin to tuck him against his chest, the two of them pressed somewhat stickily together. It wasn't precisely comfortable and it was entirely perfect, and Bilbo sighed, softly, burying his nose into the soft curls at Thorin's chest.

-~~*~~


End file.
